Asher let out a confused noise of protest as he was yanked into the room. He pulled his sleeve back up on his shoulder as the prince shut the door, then looked around with wide, curious eyes. It was undebateably the nicest room he had ever been inside. Ornate forks were nothing compared to the furnishings of the prince's chamber. As awed as he was, it also made Asher a bit angry that while the nobility surrounded themselves with luxuries, his family and many others struggled to get even the most rudimentary of supplies.

But he hadn't come to debate politics, he had cone to apologize. Asher turned to face the prince, eyes fixed on the floor by their feet, which was considerably more dry than it had been during their first meeting. He tried to remember what David had told him about manners when addressing nobility, and he vaguely recalled bowing his head to be a sign of respect, or something like that. He hated having to present himself as a lower being, as if being two castes below someone made him inhuman. It was humiliating, but while living with his parents, Asher had seen people killed for not behaving "properly" around those of a higher class. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand, derailing that train of thought.

"Forgive me if this is bad timing," Asher spoke, trying to keep all hostility out of his tone, "but I came to apologize for earlier. I should've been paying more attention. I'm very sorry, Your Highness." The words felt like poison on his tongue. He glanced up briefly through his bangs and felt his cheeks burn hotter at the sight of the prince. He really was as handsome as the other servants said, and Asher felt completely inferior, standing before him with disheveled hair and clothes that never fit quite right. He lowered his gaze once more, fingernails digging harder into the the flesh of his hand.